


These Were Lies #7: Buffy

by voleuse



Series: These Were Lies [7]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-07
Updated: 2005-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I will not speak of the undying glory of women</em>.<br/>Nine women Spike used to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Were Lies #7: Buffy

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "After Life." Title, summary, and headings taken from _Not Marble Nor the Gilded Monuments_ by Archibald MacLeish.

_(What is a dead girl but a shadowy ghost  
or a dead man's voice but a distant and vain affirmation  
like dream words most)_

 

He watches Buffy's hands tremble. She needs both to drink a glass of water.

He's seen her crush the throat of a demon with those same hands.

The others don't notice, or maybe they don't care.

She finishes her drink, and he takes the glass from her. There's gratitude in her eyes.

He looks away, and thinks, _They never should have brought her back._

*

 

When they're all around, she smiles bright as the sun. She chirps answers to all their questions, but never looks directly at any of them. Except for Dawn, whose hair she strokes in quieter moments.

And she looks at Spike, because he knows the truth.

She's brittle as glass, he thinks, any fool should be able to see that.

They're so damn happy she's back, however, that they look at her and only see their own joy.

Sometimes, he knows exactly how they feel.

*

 

He swings by the house in the middle of the night, intending to restock the freezer with cookie dough ice cream while they're all still asleep.

Buffy's sitting in the kitchen. Rather, she's crouched on the floor, curled into a ball. She's crying.

He drops the ice cream on the counter, kneels beside her. "Buffy?" he murmurs.

She looks at him, and for a single, chilling moment, there's nothing in her eyes.

Then she blinks, and she's there again.

"Buffy?" he repeats, a little louder.

She raises her head. "Spike?"

He hesitates, then puts a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Her face shifts, from despair to bitterness to cynicism. "Peachy."

She stands, and he lets his hand fall to his side.

"I brought ice cream."

She picks the carton up, pries the lid off, and stares inside.

He waits.

Finally, she whispers, "I liked ice cream."

"I remember," he replies. He hands her a spoon. "Maybe you still do."

"Maybe," she says. There isn't much hope in her voice, but she takes the spoon.

He turns his back on her as she eats, doesn't want to infringe on her space.

The spoon clatters in the sink, and he spins around to see her putting the ice cream in the freezer.

"Buffy?" he tries again, and this time, she smiles.

"Thanks, Spike."

He smiles back. "My pleasure."


End file.
